


The Oregon House

by Pixelfun20



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Coming of Age, Dad!Jason, Dadson, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Families of Choice, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Jason Grace is a Good Friend, Not Canon Compliant - The Trials of Apollo, Past Character Death, Post-The Heroes of Olympus, Prompt Fic, Slice of Life, The Dad!Jason Fic No One Asked For, i'm so clever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 17:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21323860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixelfun20/pseuds/Pixelfun20
Summary: Running from his past and a literal army of monsters, Jason Grace is, at twenty years old, caring for two toddlers and protecting the last remnants of the Mist, with no friends or allies to turn to for help. Tired and alone, when he finally has a chance to stop running, he takes it and never looks back. A series of semi-domestic one-shots with a smattering of plot. Accepting prompts!
Kudos: 22





	The Oregon House

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I’ve posted in the PJO fandom, so though I’ve lurked here for a while, let me know if I make any mistakes. For information about prompts and where this’ll be going, see the end notes.
> 
> For reference, everything is canon up to the moment after Apollo was turned into a human. So PJO and HoO happened, but beyond Apollo’s mortality ToA did not.The Oregon House takes place around five and a half years after Blood of Olympus.

  
  


“ _ Whoa _ . Is this really where we’re going to live now?”

Jason looked over at Frieda as she sprinted down the dirt road toward the large house before them. At four years old, Frieda was strong and fast for a girl her age, and he didn’t try to catch up to her, instead picking up one-year-old Luke, cradling the small boy in one arm as he snuggled into his chest. 

“Stay where I can see you!” He called out instead of answering the question, paying the taxi driver as he took out their luggage (which was one medium sized, battered old suitcase that held all they owned in the world). “You know the rules.”

“But I want to  _ explore _ !” Frieda protested as she ducked to crawl under a bush and see what was inside.

“Frieda.”

“Yes, Daddy.” Her long black hair was now sporting several sticks and leaves as she detached herself and stood up, and when it was combined with the quite adorable green-eyed pout she was shooting him, he had to suppress a chuckle. “Sorry, Daddy.”

Jason thanked the driver, who simply grunted and got back in the cab. In a couple moments, the man was off again, the car kicking up a cloud of dust on the long dirt driveway they took to get here. He watched the car until it was out of sight, and even then he gazed in the direction that it’d left until Luke started shifting, beginning to fuss softly.

“You’re fine, baby,” he murmured softly, all previous optimism gone. He really was doing this. This was actually happening. 

Jason Grace was a lot of things. The son of the Roman god Jupiter, former Praetor of the Twelfth Legion, former counsellor of Cabin One, savior of the world a couple times over, and so on. But as he looked around him, taking in the large fir and pine trees in front of him and the blindingly blue ocean peaking through the tan dead grasses behind him, he couldn’t help but feel every bit of the stressed twenty(but he was two weeks away from twenty-one)-year-old he was.

Life really sucked when one was a demigod.

“Daddy! Look what I found!” Jason looked up to Frieda racing towards him, a muddy brown, slimy-looking snake clenched in her tiny fists. The demigod swore his heart leapt into his throat (but when did it not when he was with that girl?), and he rushed to meet her, shifting Luke into one arm and kneeling to grab at the snake with the other.

“Frieda!” He exclaimed, shooting her a stern look. “What did I tell you about picking up strange things?! Set that down!”

“No fair,” Frieda muttered, putting down the snake nonetheless. It was off in the tall grass within seconds. “It wassn’ gonna hurt me.”

“You don’t know that,” Jason replied sternly, looking her in the eyes. “What have we been talking about lately?”

“Don’t touch strange things. Stay in sight of Daddy.”

“Exactly. And are you going to try better to do that now?”

There was a short pause, before Frieda sniffed haughtily, giving in. “Yes, Daddy.”

Then there was Frieda and Luke, the whole reason he was out here, in the middle of nowhere, Oregon, coming to a house he’d never even set foot in before. Jason couldn’t find it in himself to feel angry at them for it ( _ “Of course you can’t,” Leo’s voice laughed in his head. “You’re a sucker for the kids when they start to cry.” _ ), though, so he simply stood up, grabbed his suitcase, and began walking down the stone path to the house. Frieda, slightly subdued but already recovering from her adoptive father’s scolding, skipped ahead, stopping every other second to admire some new novelty and thus staying close by. 

They turned a corner, and Jason had to resist a groan. How was he going to do this again?

A large, worn down house stared him down, and he couldn’t help but feel small as he looked up at it. The windows were stained and dirty, the wood damp and moldy, and the second step leading up to the porch had collapsed in on itself. In general, it looked to be every bit the abandoned-for-five-years shelter that it was.

In the years after World War II, New Rome had been on high alert as the world entered the Cold War. Always afraid of nuclear strikes and war posing a threat to the camp and nearby city, they’d set up small outposts dotting over the West Coast, just in case the worst actually did happen. In the decades after the dissolution of the Soviet Union, however, those outposts had gradually fallen out of use, and this one had finally been officially abandoned by the Romans five years earlier. However, the spells that kept up the boundaries should still be in place, if weakened, giving the three demigods the shelter from monsters they needed.

“So  _ cool _ !” Frieda exclaimed, throwing her arms up in the air and making as if to run up to the steps, before stopping and looking to Jason for permission. “Can I?”

“Stay in the first room,” he conceded. Letting out a wild whoop, the little girl was off again, leaping over the broken step, throwing open the front door and shouting out every little thing she could see inside, no matter how trivial.

Luke whined, squirming in Jason’s grip.

“Ma,” he murmured, reaching out a hand to some vague object before them. He looked around, soft gray eyes trying to find another person. “Ma. Ah-mamamama.”

Jason’s throat closed, and he bounced Luke softly as they walked up the steps. Pushing down his suitcase’s handle, he picked it up with his free hand and pushed the door all the way open from where Frieda had left it at the halfway mark. Luke continued to babble to himself, different variants of “mama” and “mi-muh” (his way of saying “milk” which for him was any type of food, even though Jason had started transitioning him off of milk a couple weeks ago) making their way past the toddler’s lips.

_ “Ah-mamamamama,” Annabeth annunciated each syllable carefully, bouncing an eight-month-old Luke on her knee. She laughed as the baby simply shot her a clueless ‘what are you doing?’ look. “C’mon. You should start talking soon, Luke. Mama.” _

_ “Just chanting ‘mama’ at the kid won’t make him start talking, Annabeth,” Leo spoke up. He was, as he always did at this time of night, tending the fire, which warmed their tents and warded off the darkness of the forest. “I didn’t start talking until I was almost two.” _

_ The daughter of Athena shot him a look. “Considering you, Leo, I’m really not surprised. And I am perfectly capable of knowing what does or doesn’t influence my son to start talking.” _

_ Leo huffed. “Whatever you say,” he muttered sarcastically. _

_ “Do you really want to go there?” The Latino looked back to the fire. “Thought so.” _

_ Jason shook his head, lips twitching upwards. He was leaning back on one of the logs, head resting on some moss. Frieda had  _ finally _ managed to fall asleep several minutes earlier, head drooped across his chest, and he wasn’t about to risk waking her up by moving. _

_ “Say,” Annabeth hummed after a couple minutes of silence. She took Luke off her knee and held him close to her chest. He began to gnaw on her hair. “After all this is over, let’s go back to Camp Half-Blood. Just once, to visit.” _

_ Leo shrugged, not speaking like he usually did when their past was brought up, shoulders rising and falling limply. _

_ “I think that’d be nice, Annabeth,” Jason murmured, looking up to the starry night sky, careful not to disturb Frieda. “Going back, one last time.” _

_ They’d never gone back. _

Jason shook himself out of his memories as Frieda began to inch towards the back staircase. Luke was really wriggling now, so he set the one-year-old down and let him stumble a couple steps before wobbling to a stop and holding up his arms for Jason to pick him back up.

“Got all the adventure of your system already?” The man commented, picking up Luke nonetheless. “And Frieda, I see you. Get back in here.”

Frieda grumbled, stalking back over to him, and Jason took the opportunity to examine what the interior of the outpost-house.

The front door opened into a large room that seemed to be the living room, dining room, and kitchen all rolled into one, and took up at least two-thirds of the first floor. On the right was an old sofa and a wooden rocking chair, a bookshelf packed with old tomes facing it. There was a large empty area on the other half of the left side that suggested that something else had been there before the Romans had moved out, but whatever use it had served was now gone. The right half sported an extremely out-of-date kitchen (he’d have to figure out if this place even had electricity) with a bar and several stools in the middle of it, and a large wooden table with eight chairs off to one side. There was a small hallway off to the back and a rickety-looking staircase next to it. The whole house had a more modern Californian touch to it than Roman, surprisingly enough.

“Can’t I see what’s upstairs?” Frieda whined, tugging on his shirt. Jason shook his head. 

“No, but you can go down the hallway, I suppose.”

“Yipee!” She was off once again, turning right and slamming open one of the doors. Jason let out a sigh, taking his suitcase and setting it down on the ground next to the sofa. He set Luke on the couch, who whined and held up his arms in protest, but Jason ignored him, kneeling on the ground and opening the suitcase.

Inside was everything he owned in the world. First were four different shirts and a change of jeans that constituted his own wardrobe, then a couple more outfits from Goodwill that Annabeth had stolen a couple weeks ago for Frieda and Luke. He took out the clothes, setting them down in neat, separated piles, and moved on with unpacking. 

First out was Leo’s old toolbelt. Jason hesitated momentarily before pulling it up into the light of day once more. He’d considered using it himself when on the road with the kids this last week, but in the end Jason couldn’t bring himself to do so. So it’d gone in the suitcase under the clothes, and hadn’t been touched. Now, Jason almost reverently set it down next to the clothes.

Next was an old Yankees baseball cap, folded in on itself. Jason gently opened it and picked up the pen wrapped inside, letting it roll in his palm. The pen certainly had been used in the past couple months. Jason frankly felt awful using it in a fight, but it’d been essential to keep him and the kids alive over the last year; ever since IVLIVS had been broken, he’d been without a weapon of his own. Annabeth had given him her blessing to do so, but still.

Riptide never appeared in his pocket when he dropped it. Jason thought that was just as well.

Luke found that moment opportune to stand up and yank on Jason’s hair. The demigod winced, holding back a cry that was more out of surprise than pain, and gently grabbed the toddler’s wrist, trying to get him to let go. Luke just giggled, finding that fisting Jason’s blond locks (which had, he admitted, let grow out recently) was much more fun than sitting on the sofa.

“C’mon Luke,” Jason muttered, trying to tear his head away. Finally, Luke let go with a loud bark of laughter, leaving Jason to lose his balance and nearly fall on the pile of clothes. “Very funny,” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair.

Luke certainly seemed to think so, clapping his hands giddily and reaching for him again. Jason scooted himself out of reach.

“Daddy!” Frieda exclaimed from the other room, voice slightly muffled. “There’s a  _ shield _ on the wall!”

“Don’t touch it!” Jason called back. There was an exaggerated groan. The blond laughed to himself and hurried with unpacking, knowing that wouldn’t keep the girl for long. 

Beneath the previous items was a breastplate, shifting with different colors to match the background behind it. That was made of chameleon armor, and Leo had given it to him as a gift for his eighteenth birthday. Jason’s heart panged at the memory (they’d been so  _ happy _ ), and he was quick to set it aside. 

There were only a couple items left in the suitcase. They were an assortment of miscellaneous items, including a dozen or so golden drachmas, a rolled-up wad of money that amounted to about $200, a pad of paper and crayons for Frieda and Luke, three cubes of ambrosia, a vial of nectar, and a pair of celestial bronze knives he’d gotten after killing a monster a month or so back. He neatly ordered them by the clothes, then gently lifted a thin cardboard box out of the bottom, sliding it under the sofa. He’d find a better place for that later.

Luke sniffled behind him.  _ Just in time _ . The baby tended to start crying when separated from him for too long. Pocketing Riptide, Jason stood up and let Luke waddle into his arms, the toddler instantly content once again.

“Mi-mi.” He whined, reaching for Jason’s hair once again. The demigod swatted the legacy’s hand away. “Mi-muh.”

“Yes, there should be food here,” he responded, as if Luke could understand. At least, he hoped. The Romans were nothing if not prepared, so he felt safe in assuming that there was food here. There should be a cellar, and that would hold enough canned food for them to last for a while. If not, they’d have to go back to town before nightfall. He raised his voice and added: “Frieda, where’s the shield?”

“Uh…” A little black-haired head popped out of the left door. Looking down the hallway, Jason could see that there were two rooms on either side of the hallway, with a screen door opening at the end of the hallway, leading to the backyard. “That one.” Frieda pointed to the opposite door. 

Jason turned and walked into said room. There seemed to be considerable water damage in the right corner, considering the mold, and several old weapons were scattered along the ground. There was an old Roman shield inscribed with the eagle of the Twelfth Legion up on the wall and a long crack down one side, but also a couple knives up on a table (thankfully out of Frieda’s reach), and a rusty spear in the right corner.

_ Ah. This must’ve been the armory. _

Yeah. This was most definitely not becoming one of the kids’ rooms. He’d figure out what to do with it later. For now Jason picked up the spear and placed on the table, just to be sure that Frieda wouldn’t go crazy with it. 

“Daddy, you gotta look at the other room!” Frieda burst behind him, grabbing his free hand and tugging him with all the might of a 40-pound kid.

“Alright…” Jason sighed, allowing himself to get dragged out of the former armory and into the other room. This one, he realized, must’ve been an office. There was a heavy wooden desk in the center of the room, two large bookshelves on either side (though unlike the bookshelf in the living room, these were mostly empty), and even an old computer from the mid-2000s, sitting in the back and collecting dust. No doubt Frieda, who’d been raised avoiding electronics like the plague, had thought the computer was what was most worth their time.

Sure enough…

“Daddy! It’s a real comeput-” Frieda frowned, pursing her lips. “Computa… Compet…”

“Computer?”

“Yeah! That. Can you make it work?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you can zap it!”

“Zapping a computer doesn’t always make it work. Besides, using my powers is dangerous.”

Frieda fell silent, thinking. Grateful she was subdued, if only for a moment, Jason steered her out of the room and back into the hallway.

“Daddy?” Jason looked down, watching as Frieda glanced up at him, curious. “When’s Auntie Anna coming back? When’s she gonna kill that monster?”

Jason looked out to the living room, where he’d set Annabeth’s cap next to his jeans. A moment of silence passed, punctated only by Luke sniffling and beginning to seriously whine for lunch.

“You know what?” Jason announced abruptly, flashing Frieda a quick smile. “Why don’t you go see what’s upstairs? Come back down and tell me what you see, and don’t touch anything.”

Frieda’s face lit up at the prospect of more exploration, previous query quickly forgotten. With a quick “Thanks, Daddy!” she was off, bolting up the stairs and thumping up above them. 

Jason waited until she was out of sight, then hurriedly swiped at his eyes, letting out a long breath to steady himself. He couldn’t think about the past. He had to think about the here and now, about the two children that were now depending on him for sustenance. To the future.

“Why don’t we get everyone some lunch?” He offered Luke, forcing up a smile. “You and your sister must be starving.”

* * *

There  _ was  _ a cellar, indicated by a trap door in the corner of the room. Inside it was a room covered in rows of imperishable foods; enough to last them a couple months at least if Jason rationed it well enough. The walls were made of concrete (and just as well; wood would have rotted extremely quickly in the damp ground), and judging by how it had a small bathroom and a smaller weapons stash that hadn’t been looted like the one upstairs, it seemed its purpose had been as a bunker in the case of the worst actually happening. 

That was a relief. A plan B was always a good idea to have. He’d come up with plans C and D later, when he had time.

Either way, there were some dried fruits in a battery-powered freezer and powdered milk on the shelves, so Jason took that and some bottled water before climbing back up to the first floor.

Luke had started crying in the absence of his parental figure, having moved so close to the trapdoor that Jason almost brained the kid when he opened it up. Hurriedly, he picked up Luke (who was still wailing but beginning to quiet), and brought out lunch with his other. 

“Daddy! Daddy!” Jason looked to see Frieda pounding down the stairs once again. “It’s all so big! There’s huge rooms and some weird wooden thing and  _ beds _ ! How long are we staying?!”

“As long as we can,” came the reply as he juggled Luke in one arm and opening the dried fruit bag with his teeth. “Here. I have something for lunch.”

“Ah, I’m  _ starving _ !” But her nose crinkled when he tried to pass her a dried apple slice. “What’s  _ that _ ?”

“An apple.”

“Doesn’ look like one.”

“There’s no water in it. That’s why it’s all small and wrinkled.”

Frieda gave him a look, curiosity and suspicion clashing on her face. “How?”

Jason didn’t know. “They dried it.”

“How?”

_ Uh… _ “They lay it out in the sun and let it dry.”

“How does the sun do that?”

Luke was beginning to grab for the fruit, so Jason simply shot Frieda a look. Grumbling, she reluctantly took her share, relieving her father so that he could focus on Luke. The toddler was wriggling and fussing, so it was a challenge to find a cup in the cupboards, wash it, then mix together the powder and water to form a thick milkshake. Ignoring Frieda’s exclamation of “Hey! I like this!” he sat down at the bar, gingerly helping Luke drink without spilling too much. He grabbed a couple of dried apples for himself, but spent most of lunch making sure Frieda didn’t get into more trouble and getting Luke to eat the apples. 

Hardly fifteen minutes passed before Luke was out like a light, drooling on Jason’s shoulder.

“Frieda,” he called out in a low murmur as he gently lowered Luke to the sofa, careful to keep the toddler asleep. The little girl looked over from where she’d been trying to sneak another dried apple, had the decency to look sheepish at being caught, and fumbled over to him. 

“Yes, Daddy?” She muttered, ducking her head. 

“I’m going out for a little bit. Can you watch over Luke for a couple minutes? You can draw me a nice picture.”

Frieda’s eyes lit up at the prospect of responsibility. “I’ll do it, Daddy! I’ll protect him from all the evil monsters!” She threw a wild, sloppy punch. “I’ll beat ‘em up!”

Jason chuckled, picking up Annabeth’s cap and placing one of the two knives on the ground next to Luke.

“Remember the rules?” He asked gently. Frieda nodded fiercely, hair bobbing with the motion.

“Don’t touch strange things. Stay in sight of Daddy. Run away from monsters. Don’t touch the knives or the belt unless I gotta. Run if Daddy or Anna or Leo tell me to.”

“Good,” Jason nodded firmly, trying to ignore how his heart thudded in his chest at leaving them alone, even for such a short amount of time. He passed the pad of paper and crayons over to her. “Draw me something pretty, okay?”

“Okay!”

With Frieda entertained and Luke asleep, Jason nudged the box from earlier out from under the couch, picked it up and tiptoed outside, careful to softly close the door behind him as he entered the porch.

Looking about, he took a better look at the area surrounding the house. It was situated in a small clearing, sporting thigh-high grass, weeds, and flowers that were a mixture of both dead and alive. There was the rock path that they’d used to walk here from the taxi right in front of the house, cutting a path through the woods. To the east was the forest, with large oak and pine trees, and to the west it continued for a short ways, but he could just glimpse through the trunks where the ground dropped off to meet the nearby Salmon River.

This place was a lot better than their brief stint in Arizona, Jason reflected wryly. 

Well, the boundaries protecting this place from monsters and mortals (though he had little clue how well they worked anymore), would be close by, since this place was only an outpost, so all he had to do was walk in any particular direction and then find the source of the boundaries. 

So that’s what he did. Deciding one of the trees in the forest was probably where his predecessors had anchored the boundaries, he strode off the steps (skipping the broken one; he’d have to fix that later) and to the east. 

Hardly three hundred feet out, Jason suddenly felt a stripping sensation. Pausing in his steps, he backpedalled a bit until he’d passed back into the barrier. There. He’d found it. If one looked closely enough, there was a little ripple in the air, sort of like the mirages one saw when looking out to the horizon on a particularly hot day. But if one looked even closer, they could see that this mirage was spotty, shifting to allow small gaps to allow him to see clearly before closing again a couple moments later.

Hm. Just as he thought. The Mist had been spotty lately and he couldn’t rely on it to stay constant for any prolonged period of time— _ no, this is not the time to think of the past! _ —so he couldn’t rely on it to protect himself or the kids. But he had the solution to that under his arm, so Jason flipped a mental coin and turned right, following the borders of the Mist for a little while until he came upon a large, old oak tree, noticeably taller than the rest but otherwise unremarkable. The mirage sensation was noticeably stronger here, giving the entire tree the same spotty look to it, so Jason figured he’d found the source of the boundaries.

Kneeling down, Jason set down the box and opened it almost reverently. Inside, the Golden Fleece shimmered in the early afternoon light, its golden wool giving it an almost otherworldly glow. Gently, he picked up the Fleece, and with a mumbled prayer to Trivia and Terminus, draped it over one of the lower-hanging branches of the oak tree. 

After a moment, the mirage sensation strengthened, little strands of gold shooting through the oak tree and then through the mirage-pocketed air, strengthening it until no more holes appeared in the mirage barrier. Jason let out a breath of relief, stepping back to take in the entirety of the boundaries.

Thank the gods. It had worked.

Jason picked up the remnants of the box and walked back to the house.

On to the next task.

* * *

_ He was standing at the borders of Camp Half-Blood, by Thalia’s old tree. Next to him, Annabeth frowned to herself, deep in thought as one hand rested on her abdomen, which was ever so slightly swollen. The Golden Fleece hung in its usual place on one of the lower branches, but the tree itself wasn’t looking so well. On the tips of the higher branches, the pine needles had darkened to brown and started to fall. _

_ “What do you think is happening?” He asked worriedly, turning to Annabeth. The daughter of Athena looked almost frightened, no doubt brought back to the days when she and Percy had to find the Fleece the first time. _

_ “The poison’s coming back…” Katie murmured instead, standing up from where she’d knelt next to the base of the tree. She was rather pale. “Lou Ellen?” _

_ “The Mist is wavering,” the daughter of Hecate replied softly. “My powers have been spotty over the last couple days, yes, but for it to even affect camp boundaries…. Something is happening.” _

_ “That’s obvious,” Annabeth replied. “Katie, go get Chiron and Mr. D. We need to inform New Rome about this. With the barrier wavering, monsters might be able to get in here or their own camp.” _

_ “I’ll go,” Jason offered as the Head Counselor nodded and sprinted down to the Big House. “I can try and get Hazel to help. If anyone will be able to save the tree, it’s her and you, Lou Ellen.” _

_ “Get Percy, too,” Annabeth said. “We’ll need him in case there’s another prophecy or attack.” _

_ Lou Ellen snorted. “Finals are next week. He’ll be  _ happy _ to get caught in another scheme of the gods.”  _

_ The sky rumbled in the distance. Jason shook his head.  _

_ “Percy’s rubbing off on you,” he teased her with a smile. Katie rolled her eyes. _

_ “I just happen to know what it’s like to go to college,” she shot back good-naturedly. “ _ And _ to get called back because the gods have decided that it’s completely necessary to put my life on hold for their sake.” _

_ And suddenly the scene fell apart. Darkness erupted, swallowing Annabeth and Katie whole before doing the same to the hill he was standing on and Thalia’s Tree. Jason let out a cry, caught off guard, and flipped open IVLIVS, the golden sword fitting easily into the palm of his hand as he looked about, now in complete darkness. _

_ Was this a vision? _

_ No. _

_ Jason’s head pounded, and he tried to shake his head and clear it. _

_ Dreaming. He had to be dreaming. He was twenty years old, not nineteen. He was alone with two kids in the backcountry of Oregon, not living with several dozen other half-bloods on Long Island. _

_ But why was he dreaming of a memory? _

_ As the thought passed through his mind, the darkness receded. Jason watched as he found himself in the room Frieda had claimed as her own the previous evening. He looked over to see that yes, his adopted daughter was sprawled across the bed, snoring loudly. Jason smiled to himself at the sight, but did not sheath IVLIVS, still wary of this dreamscape. _

_ “Children are beautiful, aren’t they?” _

_ Jason whipped around, sword at the ready, to see a woman drifting through the doorway, as if she was a ghost. She wore dark robes and equally dark hair and eyes. However, icy chains were wrapped around her form, binding together her hands and leaving just enough room around her feet to let her take small, shuffling steps into the light. The chains clattered loudly as she did so, but Frieda did not so much as stir. _

_ “Who are you?” He asked. The woman quirked an eyebrow at him, looking almost amused.  _

_ “A goddess,” she replied with a shrug, stepping closer towards Frieda. Jason stepped in between them, pointing IVLIVS just a couple inches from her face. _

_ “Forgive me if I’m wary,” he said curtly. “I don’t have the best track record with trusting the gods.” _

_ The woman stopped, but continued to gaze at Frieda disinterestedly, head quirked slightly as she did so, as if deep in thought. _

_ Jason frowned. She did look familiar…. He paused, thinking deeply. Where had he seen this goddess before? _

_ “She’s a bit small, isn’t she?” she said after a minute or so of silence. “But then again, so was that Jackson kid. So I won’t make any judgements as of yet.” _

_ “Is she your daughter?” Jason seriously doubted it. Though he had no idea who Frieda’s godly parent was (only that it wasn’t Hermes and most likely not Apollo), she certainly didn’t seem to be the daughter of—that was it! “You’re Trivia.” _

_ “Hecate as of the present moment, but yes,” she answered affirmatively. “And no, she is not. I haven’t had any children over the past couple years. Haven’t had much of a chance. No one cares much for my realm anymore.” _

_ “What’s with the chains?” _

_ “What do you think?” Hecate tipped her head again, then shuffled right through Jason and sat down on the edge of Frieda’s bed. The young man whipped around to see that as the goddess reached out as if to touch the little girl. However, her bound hands did not make contact with her skin, but simply hovered just above it, unable to interact with the physical realm. “I am currently only… investigating, you could say.” _

_ Jason frowned deeper. “What exactly do you mean? I’m getting pretty tired of all this vagueness you gods are so fond of.” _

_ Hecate did not take her eyes of Frieda as she responded.  _

_ “When Apollo was banished to mortality, someone had to take over his duties,” she replied in a soft voice. Jason’s heart dropped. Apollo still hadn’t returned to his status as a god? But he hadn’t seen his godly half brother in almost two years, and it’d been five since he was banished… he’d assumed that meant that Apollo had returned to Olympus. That wasn’t a good sign. “Artemis took over his duty of driving the Sun Chariot, for example. I have taken over his penchant for prophecies.” _

_ “Frieda is the subject of a prophecy.” Jason’s mouth went dry, and his heart thudded even louder. He knew exactly what it was like to be at the mercy of the Fates, holding up the world on your shoulders and feeling as if you were about to be crushed under the weight. He didn’t want that for her. But if the Fates had decreed it, there was very little he could do about it.  _

_ “Perhaps,” Hecate shrugged. “I’m not as talented as Apollo in this field and can’t be sure. But I suspect.” Pitch black eyes gazed up at him emotionlessly. “The other possibility is you. That is why you are here.” _

_ It wasn’t even a question. “I’ll do it. I swear, I’ll even face Gaea again on my own than let Frieda or Luke get involved in my world. They’re only kids!” _

_ “Children host a special brand of magic. They see things adults can’t, and are always open to new possibilities. They can become anything they wish to be.” Something in Hecate’s expression was wistful, and her hands whispered just above Frieda’s skin. She stayed like that for a moment, then stood, chains echoing loudly in the nighttime air. “But there is a time yet before the prophecy comes into effect. Until then, you are under my protection, Jason Grace. Only those you approve of will cross the barrier protecting this house.” She waved her hands, and three dark purple gems appeared in them. “Take these with you when you leave the property, and as long as you stay close by, you and the children’s scent will be hidden.” _

_ Jason reluctantly held out his hand and accepted the gems. They were teardrop shaped, with miniscule veins of white and black tracing through them. _

_ “Why come now?” He asked, looking back up as he tucked the gems into his pocket. _

_ Hecate shot him a deadpan look, raising a single eyebrow. _

_ “Why do you think? You prayed to me.” _

_ That was when Jason woke up. _

**Author's Note:**

> And that’s a wrap! 
> 
> This story is more of an experiment than anything, and how far it goes depends on you guys. I have a basic outline of the plot and several chapters planned, but I’ll need prompts (preferably ones that err on the more domestic side) to continue. If you guys have any questions or ideas, please let me know. How many details of what happened to Jason to get him here will be revealed through what you guys submit.
> 
> I’ll also be accepting some mortal OCs (and later on, perhaps some demigod ones), if you want to put them in your prompts or just submit one in general. For more information, comment below.
> 
> The safehouse is near the mouth of the Salmon River, around a half-hour north of Lincoln City, Oregon.
> 
> So I guess we'll see how well this works out. Updates might be slow initially, but they should speed up around Thanksgiving. Thanks for reading, and I hope to see some submissions!


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